


Telos

by FelineJaye



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: F/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelineJaye/pseuds/FelineJaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darth Revan confronts her reasoning behind why the planet Telos is spared from her reign.</p>
<p>(Rating for mentions of character deaths.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telos

“M’ Lord, with all due respect, why have we not attacked Telos?”

“We do  **not**  attack Telos.”

“But why-”

“No.”

Telos is the one place I cannot attack.

“At least travel there - for just a short time. We can easily organise anonymousity, you know how simple it is to slip onto a planet.”

At first, Bastilla's smile would only suggest that we share a private joke, remnants of our anonymous days aboard the Ebon Hawk. And perhaps that’s what the smile started as. But her grey skin sinks further than that and under her expression I can see her  _hope_. Though hope seems too pretty a word to describe it. She hopes that Telos announces my arrest warrant or better yet - that they somehow catch me, even though she knows (she has  **seen** ) how easily I can slip out of a cell.

I don’t remember what I was like before. How can I, thanks to Malak. Thanks to her. But I remember that, since waking from the Endar Spire, fiddling open a lock felt so natural - while the ship I awoke on felt anything but.

She hopes trouble will find me, as it is prone to do, on Telos. It would be an almost unrefusable excuse to attack. Almost worth it, in fact, just to see their faces when they realise who their 'prisoner’ is.

But I cannot attack Telos. I have broken my heart once and I will not set myself up for such  **weakness** again. Not with Bastilla by my shoulder, waiting with the calm and glee of a sadistic executioner  Waiting for my head to rest in a moment of weakness on the chopping block and for her and her crimson red saberstaff (her amber yellow one discarded years ago) to allow me to rest for ever more.

I will not show such weakness in front of such a formidable apprentice. But the temptation to walk on the surface of Telos - Telos, which I have made to a fable in my mind. Is this not what I am? Is the Dark Side not giving into temptation?

“Alright.”

And the temptation truly is too great.

She smiles at me and I recall that same smile on my own face. A smile of everything going your way. The smile I couldn’t conceal as Bastilla stood like a baroness and feinted victory to Admiral Dodanna while really declaring the galaxy in my name. My new name, my old name. The Dark Lord Revan.

And so preparations were arranged for my anonymous arrival on Telos.

* * *

In the war-torn situation that the galaxy is in, my light armour hardly stands out. I take pains to remember how I used to walk, how I used to hold myself. The memories are fuzzy (was Taris really that long ago? It feels like yesterday we laughed and I broke his morals and he called me gorgeous…) Not ten minutes on this planet and already I am loosing my new self. No. I wouldn’t give myself up for anything - or anyone. I lost myself once and it won’t happen again.

I’ve already made it to the Restoration Offices before I realise that coming here would be meddling (and if it’s one thing I can remember it’s that meddling means trouble. Experience, but trouble). But I am here now and I observe their efforts. I fool myself with words such as ’ _reconnaissance_ ’ and ’ _information’_. But that’s not why I am here. No matter how Bastilla campaigns I know that I cannot attack this planet. Sometimes I suspect that, with her eagerness equalling my reluctance, that she has a personal reason behind an attack. That both our reasons can be summed up in one word. One name.

I can’t say it.

I haven’t said in years. I’ve hardened both my heart and my soul but I hold a superstition that this mental armour will crack if I say it. Instead I approach an official so as to interrogate them on their efforts.

I ask all I can, but eventually his answers begin to go in circles. As if he is a droid programmed what to say and I’ve exhausted all 1, 2, 3 options. As I make my leave he calls for me to wait. Feeling a tad droid like myself, I stop and wait with out meaning to. He asks me if I am here to join the Republic army. It is well known that the Republic have a base here, it’s one of Bastilla’s prime arguments. Though to say it was a base would be inaccurate  It is a headquarters  no doubt promoted as such thanks to my reluctance to touch Telos.

I ask why he would think that, conveniently forgetting my light armour and Bacca’s sword on my hip. He remarks on my military features and asks again. It feels like I take a commentable time to think, but when I speak he acts as if only seconds have past. As I review my possible responses I realise an option; another temptation of Telos.

“I wasn’t planning on joining such an… ordered resistance.”

I panic for the barest of moments, worried that my use of the word 'resistance’ would make him suspicious. But like many on my travels he reacts oblivious to the phrasing. He waves off my words, commenting on the loss of who would surely be a formidable soldier. I repress the urge to draw my Lightsabers, just for a lark, to show off what 'military’ training I’ve got. It would blow his mind I’m sure. I don’t do it, of course. Instead I pursue my idea.

In general, I give a good first impression. I tend to let Bastilla take care of the recruits, but for an important or a difficult bunch it’s always me. I am well liked, I’m charismatic. And I’m manipulative. I can persuade a Twi'lek to cut off their own lekku. In fact, I’ve done something similar before.

I press the matter of a less organised resistance and his denial wears away. He admits that Telos has an underground culture, a shadow branch of the Republic. A rumour of an organisation supposedly supported by the Republic but not above breaking laws. But he hasn’t got too much information to part.

I walk away from the failed endeavour disappointed. I’d followed temptation only to be defeated by ignorance. I am closed off and don’t notice the sentient until he calls out to me.

“Miss!” I turn to face him. “I believe you dropped this.”

He is closer now and was holding a cheap datapad out at me. The datapad isn’t mine and the area isn’t crowded enough for objects to be jostled off of one’s body. But I’ve played this game before, I know this type of move.

“Oh! Thank you.” I graciously accept the datapad.

“You are most welcome.” the equally polite sentient adds evidence to the set-up.

We part ways and I find a secluded area. In one of the Cantina’s rooms I don’t see nor sense any surveillance and so I sit and read the datapad. Predictably, it gives me vague directions. A ticket to a shuttle at a time. Simply signed 'Telos’. But I know what it’s from; Telos’ shadowy organisation. I always manage to find a way to my goal. Thanks to the Force, many would say. I am not always so sure. Nonetheless, the endeavour was a success after all.

* * *

I walk into the hanger. The security is surprisingly loose; or it would be if I weren’t so used to these situations. There’s no one else in the hanger, just the shuttle I’m meant to catch. So what to do but get in and let it take me to who knows where? Even in my head it sounds stupid but I’m at a dead-end if I don’t.

I get in, settle, and the shuttle closes and takes off. I take a moment to rest and meditate, restoring my energy. After sometime I feel the shuttle descend and land. After the typical sounds of hydraulics the shuttle opens and I exit into another empty hanger. This one has subtle differences though. The stale smell, the walls a tad darker and shabbier than they should be. This hanger is abandoned. Or is meant to appear as such.

I know better though and so I make my way to the double doors at the end of the hanger. I tug and they don’t open, so instead I take a moment to both look around and open my senses to the Force. The first feeling that assaults me is of being watched. Surveillance, of course. I suspected a test from them, it is good to know that the test has already commenced. So no Force powers. People already were weary of Force users, even during my Star Forge campaign. The distinction between Jedi and Sith was too slight for the common sentient and made no easier by traitors, redeemers or those that hovered on the distinction its self. Between my old reign, Malak’s bombing of Dantooine, my own betrayals and the eradication that Bastilla and I put in motion it had become fairly safe to assume that any Force-user you met was Sith. And attempting to infiltrate a resistance order while practically proclaiming yourself to be Sith was dumber than getting in a preprogrammed shuttle out of a low security hanger.

The way I saw it, I had three options; pick the door open, hit the door and see if it opened or walk up to the console room and hack my way to an open door. Option three felt like it would both leave less evidence and show off my skills better. Besides, I haven’t used my computer skills in a while. I open up the computer and it doesn’t take long to open the door. Unfortunatly it gives me no more than that - no area systematics, no access to any cameras. But I’ve opened the door so I’m content. I walk out into a corridor looking both ways. Suddenly I get a tingle of deja vu followed by an energetic rush as I realise were I 'remember’ this from. The old days, the adventuring days, what I’ve dubbed the ' _Ebon Hawk days_ '. A reminiscent smile on my face I hurry down a corridor.

Most of the doors I come across are welded shut, but a few open. Most rooms are empty but a few have long lost credits of the single digit nature and a security spike or two. I pilfer what I can, sparing the barest thought for what impression this gives the surveillance watchers. The corridor ends abruptly in a roughly formed but persistent looking blockade. The exit seems to be that way but I don’t think there’s a way through. I double back and repeat my actions until a reach the opposite end of the corridor. Elevator doors are always distinguishable from normal doors. I couldn’t say how most of the time, but I know they are. In front of me was one now and this one opened automatically when I approached. Slowing to a cautious walk I looked around the edges of the elevator as I entered. It closed and automatically took me below.

* * *

In the end, I found myself in a bare room and the door locking behind me. I suppose it was to stall someone should they attempt to run. Of course, if I needed to flee in such a manner than a thin, flimsy door such as that couldn’t hope to stop me. They spoke to me, asked if I knew why I was here. I played my knowledge cards - nothing to be gained from acting dumber than I am. We talked and they were, eventually, convinced: I would be valuable to this shadow organisation. They bid my leave and said they would send me a message soon.

I returned to my quarters and, suspicious enough to risk loosing my connection to this organisation, I moved quarters. In transit I radioed back to my apprentice that I would be extending my stay. Predictably she didn’t mind. Just longer to strike up a reason to attack. I made sure to alert others, so she could not use my absence as the excuse.

Arriving at my new room I found a being waiting for me. Without a word she approached, tucked a note into my hand and walked off. Opening the note I found the standard instructions, where to meet and what was next expected of me (showing off what I could do). But that was not what caught my eye. No, what held my eye was the unmistakable blue and the name of the organisation that it wrote. I was assaulted with memories -

_"With my street smarts and his muscle…“_   -  _"Ever use the Force just for fun?”_   - _“Hey! Don’t treat me like a kid!”_  -  _“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”_   -  _“I don’t believe you’d really do. You wouldn’t…”_  

-And suddenly all I could hear was her high pitched Twi'lek scream. I cringed my head, but nothing more. Even the cringe was more courtesy than pain. Misson. Written in a Rutian-coloured cursive. Maybe - **maybe**  - just being called Mission could’ve been waved off. But in that shade? I had no doubt over who was running this. He must’ve heard that she didn’t make it. But how much did he hear? He couldn’t know what I made Zaalbar do, the only ones to see that were loyal to me. Unless he stayed. Unless he hid within sight to wait for her, he did yell for her to run after all and it would be so unlike him just to leave her (young and female) like that… His chivalrously would’ve kicked in…

I couldn’t worry about it. For now, I had no way of knowing. It would be a pity, though, if he did see it. Him and his morals…

I noted the instructions and slept.

* * *

I really should’ve returned to my duties by now. I have an empire to run after all. Bastilla’s probably planning my overthrow this very moment, I should be offended but all I can feel is pride. You know you’ve fallen when the idea of your apprentice trying to overthrow you only fills you with pride.

I’ve been on Telos too long. I’m showing my weakness. Telos, Telos, Telos. It’ll be the death of me. But every time I make up my mind to leave, something hints (taunts) that he’s just around the corner.

I could make excuses, but the only one who will ask for them are myself and that just leads to a cycle of denial. I could argue that training with them means I’m learning their tactics. Taking promotions in this renegade operation means I learn their organisation. Taking any position they’ll give me means I learn the extent of their resources (so that’s where those supplies went…). But I know why I’m here.

And the worst part is that he is smart enough, paranoid enough and most of all lacks the trust to ever show his face.

The only thing I’m here for is the one thing I’m least likely to get. Oh well, aim high and all that biz.

But I’m earning respect. I can tell - I can feel it. Of course I would earn their respect, it happens everywhere I go. How much attention am I attracting, rising so quickly in this organisation?

Have I caught his attention yet?

* * *

I’m to lead an assault team against the Korriban Academy. For once, I didn’t tell Bastilla. She’ll hate me for that, but enforcing _Insanity_ on her for a while should reassert my Master status.

I stand on a balcony, over looking Telos. Little Telos, the Republic’s retreat. It is night and I watch the sky for a sign of my cruiser  I can’t see it, of course, but I look anyway. It takes my mind off of the assault team. My quest.

I don’t sense anything; my first sign is the sound of someone cocking a blaster behind me. It’ll be aimed at me, that’s for sure.

I raise my hands, a widely accepted show of peace. But a red bolt narrowly misses on of my hands, showing that my efforts are unwanted. I drop my hands and instead rest them on the hilts of my weapons; one on Bacca’s sword, one on my Lightsaber.

“You’re off the team.”

And just like that all logic flies out the proverbial window and I stupidly spin to face him.

My face is lit up like the upper levels of Nar Shardaa as I sink the image of the man before me into my mind.

He is in a uniform, but the Republic insignia is so close to the clothing’s colour that it’s almost indistinguishable. He is as well built as before if not more so (did I force you out of the pilot’s seat?). And he has two blaster’s aimed at me, one at my head and one at my chest.

“Carth…” I don’t think he hears. I’m not sure if I actually said it out loud or not.

“What are you doing here Revan?” he spits out my new name.

I flinch. I can hardly help it. He sounds so bitter, which he has every right to be. I met him with the barest scraps of trust. He must’ve been so kind once; so trustworthy. But he put so much trust in Saul Karath and when Saul left for the Sith (was that before or after me?) he took that trust with him. He didn’t really leave enough for Carth and without that he was only half there.

But I built that trust up again, I made it glorious. And when I left for my old life I took it with me and this time I don’t think he was left with any at all. Poor, poor Carth.

“Admiring the scenery.” I try our old banter but it falls flat and just sounds melancholy.

He scowls and on his now grizzled features it looks ugly.

“When do you grow to look so much like Canderous?”

His face is still ugly. Hatred doesn’t suit him. Yet he didn’t look like this before, not facing Malak, not when describing Admiral Karath.

“You can talk, you’ve lost your beauty too.”

A soft smile on my face because I have something from him.

“You remember that I was beautiful?”

He scowls and motions with a blaster.

“What are you doing here? Why have you infiltrated  _The Mission_?”

My face drops slightly, of course he’s not letting me back that easily.

“You won’t like the answer.”

“I know that,” he says it briskly “Why?” his question is more of an order.

I bet he’s used to giving those now. And he used to be such a follower.

“To look for you.”

Finally, one of the blasters droop. He falters, searching my words for something that isn’t there. He is looking for a sinister motive when the only reason I’m here is nostalgia and… him.

“Why now?”

He doesn’t question why I’m looking for him.

“Bastilla is always going on about this place, it was only matter of time before I gave in and came.”

His face hardened. I shouldn’t have mentioned Bastilla. She’s not an old face I want either of is to be thinking about.

“Only a matter of time? Heh, and you used to be so stubborn.”

And for just that moment I can pretend nothing’s wrong. Because for just that moment he is Carth again. But I smile at him and irony strikes the moment over.

We stand facing each other for a moment, still.

“You’re my greatest regret, you know.”

His look is disbelieving, a not all together unexpected look.

“And, pray tell, how did I manage that? Out of everyone,” he gestures with his pistol. “Why am I the one singled out for regret?”

“When I killed Jolee, I knew I’d miss his humour. When I killed Juhani, I felt that pang of loss. But killing her was nothing compared to loosing you.”

“Then how about Mission? How did you feel about murdering Mission? I saw what you did, what you said. How could you manipulate someone like that? But, then again, I guess I shouldn’t be shocked.”

I swung my head to the side. So he  **had**  seen my persuasion of Zaalbar. Fury grew inside me.

“You can blame yourself for that one, Onasi.” I spat. “It was because of you running off that I did it. I wouldn’t have minded if she ran from me; I’m an imposing figure. There was no way Mission could’ve alerted the Republic in time. But I was still in a state over you. So you left and Mission challenged me so openly that I just saw red.”

As a stop to take a few proper breaths I see that his face has dropped. I let rage take hold. Again. He actually blames himself for Mission, the Force tells me that in bucket-loads but it’s just as easy to read from his eyes. I soften my attitude.

“I hate it sometimes. You know how Bastilla and me got on - two cats in a bag. I so rarely took her with us when we explored. But I took you. Near every time I took you.”

My sigh carries too much pain in it.

“I wish you were with me, Carth. I always do.”

I’m looking away and so have no warning of his attitude when his reply meets me.

“I wish that too. I wish you were with me.”

I look up at him. Hope shining on my face. He shakes his head, muttering my alias; the name I used when I didn’t know who I was. He mutters it fondly. Looking me dead in the eye he continues,

“But I could never join you, I could never trust you.”

I try one last thing. The last straw on the Bantha’s back.

“I love you.”

The pain on his face is as if I’d tormented him with the Force instead of words. His shoulders cave as if his chest is folding in on it’s self. Finally, with a struggle, he responds,

“I don’t trust you.”

But I take that with a smile and calmly respond;

“You don’t trust anyone.”

He lowers his pistols. He knows he couldn’t beat me and without the chance of killing me, fighting me now serves no purpose.

As I leave, I take care in my movements. I don’t stride, I don’t slink. But I do my best to make sure my exit reeks of modesty as I turn from Carth Onasi.

* * *

I left Telos that night and was back on my ship promptly. Much to Bastilla’s displeasure, I remained in one piece. I sent a message to The Mission. To Carth. I explained what will happen. I gave times. I outlined every thing they’d need to know.

And I ended it with a joke so far into black humour that I’m not sure how many times it went around the humour cycle of being 'not funny’ or 'funny’ or where it ended up.

At the very end I wrote _“Trust me.”_

And now, at the very time outlined in my note I gave the order.

“Open fire on Telos.”

**Author's Note:**

> A fanfiction from long ago when I was playing KotOR for the first few times. I played a DS!fem!Revan and was dumped by Carth at the end. Since Bastilla annoyed me on my first playthrough, I found it ironically amusing that in the end I had Bastilla by my side but lost Carth.
> 
> This fic was to somewhat address that irony.


End file.
